Burn With You
by blackrose1002
Summary: FBI Special Agent Kurt Hummel has one goal - catch one of the most wanted and cruel criminals, Sebastian Smythe. After a string of failures, he's forced to ask for help from Smythe's former partner, currently locked up in prison. They hate each other with passion but will they be able to work through the issues between them and unite to overcome their common enemy?
1. Prologue

**Hi everyone!**

**Welcome to my new fic! I've had the idea for it for such a long time and I'm happy that finally I managed to do something about it :)**

**I don't know how long it will be, the first few chapters are written, we'll see how it goes. I hope to update regularly but, please, bear with me, my exams start soon so there might be a delay.**

**Oh, and I'd like to thank Shy, my wonderful beta :)**

**This fic is totally dedicated to Jodie and Mary, my two cheerleaders who patiently listened (and still do) to my whining about writing this fic :) **

**The title is from a Lea Michele song.**

**I own nothing (I wish I did).**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Blaine Anderson was mad. No, mad wasn't the right word. Blaine was <em>furious. <em>He was pacing around a room, waiting for his partner to join him. "This fucking idiot." He muttered under his breath. Tonight's job was supposed to be easy, the only thing they had to do was break into the museum, steal the painting and replace it with a forgery. Quickly and quietly. _But no, of course not, _Blaine thought bitterly. _He always has to complicate everything._ He stopped abruptly when he heard the door open.

"Hello, sunshine." Sebastian Smythe said, walking into the room, huge grin on his face. "Aww, you don't look very pleased, what's up, darling?"

Blaine was seconds away from tearing the man to pieces. "What's up? WHAT'S UP?!" He yelled. "This job was supposed to be nice and easy, there was no need to kill this couple, you know that, Seb! Why the fuck did you do this?!"

"They saw us. It was…"

"No, they didn't!" Blaine interrupted. "All they saw were two shadows, they were no threat, what's wrong with you?!"

Sebastian looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Wrong? With me? You're not turning soft, are you, Blaine?"

"I'm not turning soft, you idiot." Blaine snarled. "I'm just opposed to unnecessary deaths, they didn't have to die."

"Why does it even bother you? Job's done, nothing else matters." Sebastian shrugged. "You need some time to cool down, then we're gonna talk, I'm not in the mood to listen to your whining, I'm far too happy for that. I'll see you later." With that, Sebastian turned around and left the apartment, the smirk never disappearing from his face.

Blaine groaned in frustration. It wasn't the first time they had a fight like this and just like before, Sebastian stormed out without solving the problem. Blaine was starting to get worried about his partner's reckless behavior. It could get them caught one day and wearing these orange prison clothes wasn't really on the top of his to-do list. Blaine sighed deeply and moved to the kitchen. He was always starving after doing a job, he couldn't help it. While making a sandwich, he started to think again. He had to do something about Sebastian, he was getting out of control.

The Anderson/Smythe duo specialized in robbery and forgery, Blaine could forge absolutely everything; bonds, paintings, sculptures, any piece of art. They became famous very quickly, everybody knew that they were the best, no one had ever tried to deny that. At the beginning they also agreed – not killing unless it's absolutely necessary. They knew that sometimes it would be inevitable and Blaine was okay with that, though it was always Sebastian who did it. But lately… Lately Sebastian started to act differently. He started talking about "broadening their interests" as he put it. He wanted to add contract killing to their repertoire and that was something Blaine wasn't okay with. Like he said, he was opposed to unnecessary deaths. After a fight Sebastian would drop the subject but Blaine knew better than that. The idea was still in Sebastian's head and it wouldn't be easy to persuade him out of it. After a while Blaine noticed that his partner started to act looser during their jobs, like he wanted someone to see them so he could kill them, just to prove a point. He had to be stopped and Blaine had yet to figure out how to do this. He _really _didn't want to wear the orange clothes for 10 years or maybe even more.

Blaine ate his sandwich and decided to stop thinking for now. He was way too tired for this at the moment. He took a quick shower, then walked to the bedroom and threw himself on the bed. He was exhausted. Yes, he'd worry about Sebastian tomorrow.

* * *

><p>The phone was ringing.<p>

_Why the hell is it ringing?!_

Blaine opened his eyes and blinked few times. He glanced at the clock. 7 a.m.

"What the fuck?" He mumbled sleepily and took his phone from the nightstand. Five missed calls, all from Sebastian. Blaine was about to call him back when he received a text. He opened it, hoping that Sebastian had a fucking good reason to wake him up so early.

**Sebastian: **_**Meet me in the docks. 5 p.m. The usual place.**_

Blaine groaned, tossed his phone aside and buried his face in the pillow. Why did he wake him up at 7 a.m., if the meeting is in the late afternoon? Bastard. It was a payback for the fight, Blaine was sure about that. He took his phone, sent a reply and went back to sleep.

When he woke up again, it was 10 a.m. He stretched his arms and lazily got up from the bed. After small breakfast and the shower he decided to work on few forgeries he had to finish before the end of the week. He walked into his studio and instantly felt relaxed and comfortable. It was the magic of the art – it always calmed him, the studio was his sanctuary. He started humming quietly and began to work.

Blaine was so focused on his work that he couldn't feel the time passing, it always happened. Suddenly it was already 4 p.m., and he had to get going. He took his gun, put it in the holster and put the leather jacket on to cover the weapon. He grabbed his keys and left the apartment.

He reached the docks exactly at 5 p.m. He headed to the place where they usually met but Sebastian wasn't there. That was weird. Sebastian was never late. Suddenly Blaine heard the footsteps behind him. He turned around, expecting to see Sebastian but the person he saw definitely wasn't his partner. This man was slim, pale, his hair coiffed. He was standing few meters away from Blaine and looking at him with a slight smile on his face. Even from the distance, Blaine could see how incredibly blue his eyes were. Damn, he was hot.

"Well, well, well." The stranger said, his voice higher than usual male voice. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Hello there, gorgeous." Blaine replied in a low, sultry voice. "I'm almost 100% sure that we've never met, I'm pretty sure I'd remember you." Blaine's eyes slowly raked the man's body up and down. "So tell me handsome" He took a few steps forward "Who are you and what are you doing here? Such a pretty face alone in the docks?"

The man slightly tilted his head and looked at Blaine with curiosity. "I've always wondered what would it be like to meet you, Blaine Anderson." He responded, catching Blaine slightly off guard by knowing his name. The forger opened his mouth to say something, but the man kept talking. "I have to say, I'm not disappointed. Unfortunately, as delightful as this conversation is, I'm afraid it has to end."

"Why the rush, babe?" Blaine asked and winked, even though he didn't feel as confident as he did at the beginning of the conversation.

The man smirked. "I believe you have somewhere else to be."

"Is that so? And where would that be?"

"Prison."

Before Blaine had time to react, he saw people running towards him, guns in their hands, wearing the jackets with "FBI" written on them. Suddenly his hands were grabbed from behind, his gun was ripped from the holster and after few seconds he felt the handcuffs on his wrists.

The stranger slowly walked up to him, smiling like the Christmas came earlier this year. "Blaine Anderson, you're under arrest, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at interrogation time and at court." He turned to the man holding Blaine from behind. "Take him, Mike."

The agent started walking him to the car, when Blaine abruptly stopped and turned his head around. "At least tell me your name, gorgeous. I think I deserve to know."

The man looked at him and smiled sweetly. "Special Agent Kurt Hummel. I'd say that it's nice to meet you… but I'm not a big fan of lying. But I have to say, it's really nice to catch at least one of you." With that he turned around and walked to the group of agents standing nearby.

The agent holding Blaine walked him to the car and told him to get inside. When he was sitting in the backseat, Hummel's words suddenly hit him. "_… it's really nice to catch at least one of you." _Sebastian. It had to be him. Tipped the feds off to get rid of him. "You'll pay for this, you fucking asshole." Blaine mumbled angrily under his breath. Oh, he would pay. Blaine hadn't known how yet, but he knew one thing - revenge is a dish best served cold. And he'd make sure that it tastes fucking delicious.

Through the window Blaine could see the agents getting into the cars, he saw the Asian agent, the same one that put him in the car, walk in his direction.

Blaine sighed. _Looks like I'll have to get used to these orange clothes._

* * *

><p><strong>So, what do you think?<strong>

**Please, please, review and let me know! **

**See you next time!**

**Kaja x**


	2. Chapter 1

**Hey, everyone!**

**Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, keep them coming! :)**

**Few things that I want to mention:**

**1) I'm aware that that's not how things work in the real world, that the FBI probably does everything differently. But this is an AU, my own universe, so anything is possible here :)**

**2) This fic is slightly, VERY SLIGHTLY White Collar inspired. There are few elements that may seem similar but the story is completely different.**

**3) If you want to see photos related to this fic, please, visit the page about Burn With you on my tumblr :) (dont-stop-believin-in-klaine)**

**That's all :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

_**Five years later**_

Kurt Hummel was staring blankly at the whiteboard in the conference room. They had everything planned out. Every single detail. There was no way this operation could go wrong. And yet it did. Sebastian Smythe managed to escape, just like every time before. How? That was the question Kurt had been asking himself far too many times since the moment he started working on the Anderson/Smythe case. _Well, now it's only a Smythe case, _Kurt thought with a mild satisfaction, which faded away pretty quickly when he remembered that he'd been defeated. Again. He sighed deeply. Kurt hated feeling like a failure and that was exactly how he was feeling right now.

Before he had time to pity himself more, there was a soft knock on the door. Kurt waved, gesturing to come in, he didn't have to turn around to know exactly who it was. There were only two people in the office who dared to talk to him in situations like this.

"You okay, Kurt?"

"Fantastic."

"Sure." Santana Lopez said and Kurt could practically hear her eyes rolling. "You always are."

"Look at him, Tana." Mike Chang said with amusement. "He's literally glowing with happiness."

Kurt slowly turned around to look at them, Santana Lopez and Mike Chang, the best people in his team, his most trusted co-workers and best friends since high school.

"Remind me, why did I befriend you?" Kurt asked tiredly but with a small smile in his eyes.

"Shut up, you love us." Mike said.

He really did. They all grew up in Lima, small town in Ohio. They met in high school and became friends though Kurt still wasn't sure how the hell it happened. Santana was the captain of the cheerleaders, Mike was on a football team and Kurt was just a gay kid, bullied every day for his higher voice, his clothes, for who he was. But somehow they bonded.

"Earth to Lady Hummel!" Suddenly Kurt heard Santana's voice and saw her waving her hand in the front of his face and looking at him expectantly. "You kind of zoned out."

"No, I didn't."

"Oh, really? Then what did we just say?" Mike asked looking at him skeptically.

Kurt sighed. "Fine, you've got me. "

"It's not your fault." Santana repeated. He was about to deny that but she wasn't done. "Don't even start with all this shit, Hummel. You did everything right, you know that."

"Then why's he gone? Again?" Kurt asked quietly.

"Because he's a sneaky fucking bastard. But one day he's going to screw up and then we're going to catch his sorry ass." Santana said.

"She's right, you know." Mike said. "You can't dwell on this, you have to keep going and one day, sooner or later, your time will come, you will face the same evil, and you will defeat it." He finished dramatically.

Kurt started laughing. "You've been watching The Lord of the Rings again, haven't you, Mike?"

Mike shrugged and smirked knowingly. "Maybe."

Kurt looked at his friends for a second and then made a move to grab his jacket. "Alright people, it's time to go home, isn't it?" He said cheerfully and if it was anyone else, that would have been it. But one look at their faces and Kurt knew that they hadn't bought it. Thankfully, they didn't push.

They stepped from Kurt's room and then he noticed that the lower part of the office was all dark and that there wasn't a soul in there. "Wait, where's everybody?" He asked confusedly.

Santana looked at him incredulously. "Porcelain, I hate to break it down for you but it's like 10p.m., they all went home few hours ago. Unlike you, people have lives, you know."

Whoa. Did he really spend last few hours staring at the stupid board in the conference room? And he didn't even notice all of his team leaving. Maybe his friends were right, maybe he should stop thinking about Smythe all the time and focus on the things that were going on around him. _Easier said than done_, Kurt thought gloomily as he walked downstairs and headed in the direction of the elevators. He could hear Santana and Mike following him quietly, most likely scheming how to cheer him up again.

"So…" Mike started while they were waiting for the elevator but Kurt just raised his hand. "Don't, Mike. I'm fine." He lifted his eyebrow at Santana's snort. "I am, really. Just drop it." He finished with a final "I'm the leader of this team" tone, the one he usually used only during working hours. The elevator's door opened with a quiet _ding _and they all stepped in and went down to the garage level.

"See you tomorrow, guys." Kurt said.

Santana, usually snarky and rough, showed a little bit of humanity by hugging him briefly and murmuring a quiet "take it easy, Lady" and Mike patted him on the shoulder before they all headed to their respective cars.

* * *

><p>When Kurt stumbled into his apartment an hour later, he was even more exhausted than he'd been before he left the Bureau . How on Earth was it possible to be stuck in traffic between 10 p.m. and 11 p.m.?! Apparently everything was possible in New York.<p>

Kurt dropped his keys and wallet on the kitchen counter, and moved to the living room area only to collapse on the couch. He was lying there for a few minutes, face down, his right arm hanging loosely from the couch, when he felt something rubbing against his hand. He peeked one eye open and saw two huge green eyes staring at him. He rolled on his back and immediately there was a black ball of fur settling itself on his chest. Satine. Kurt adopted her three years ago even though having a pet and being an FBI agent didn't seem like such a good idea. But when he saw that little black kitten miserably curled up in the cage in the pet shop he was passing by, he instantly fell in love. Satine quickly became Kurt's source of joy during quiet evenings. It was nice not to be the only breathing creature in the apartment.

Even though Kurt wanted nothing more than just lie on the couch forever, he knew that if he let himself fall asleep in the suit, he'd be incredibly pissed in the morning, plus his neck would hurt like hell. Reluctantly, he forced himself to get up, sending Satine straight to the floor. The cat gave him her best bitch glare and slowly strutted in the direction of her basket. Kurt rolled his eyes at Satine's diva-ness and stood up, stretching his arms until he heard something cracking in his neck. Wincing, he went to his bedroom to hang his slightly wrinkled suit in the closet. Usually he would do something about that but this time the state of his clothes was the last thing on his mind. It didn't happen very often, he was Kurt Hummel after all, he liked to take care of his clothes. He smiled, thinking about this young, teenage Kurt who would rather starve to dead than let anything happen to his clothes, let alone put the wrinkled ones in the closet. Well, people change. Everything changes.

Walking in the bathroom, Kurt sighed. He wasn't a teenager anymore, he hadn't been for a long time. He was an adult, an FBI agent. As he started the shower, the dark thoughts started to creep into his head again. Maybe if he'd decided to run this operation differently, maybe if he'd spent more time on figuring Smythe out… No. No, he did what he could. There was no way he could have predicted Smythe simply vanishing without any explanation. But maybe if he had double, no, triple checked everything few more times… _Stop it, Hummel. Fuck, just stop it, _Kurt scolded himself, shaking his head, and leaning his forehead to rest against the cold tiles. He should have known it would happen, the shower had always been a place where his mind started wandering and coming up with different scenarios of what he should have or could have said or done. But there was no point in doing this, Smythe was gone.

For now.

With that thought Kurt turned off the shower and headed back to his bedroom. He eyed his queen sized bed skeptically, wondering what was he thinking when he was buying it, it was way too big for him. He flipped off the light, climbed into his oversized bed and curled up under the covers, Satine joining him instantly, settling herself on the second pillow. Kurt sighed quietly, and not for the first time he wished there was another warm human body in his bed, someone who would hold him after days like this. Someone who would make everything better simply by being beside him. But with his work having someone like that seemed almost impossible.

Sometimes being an FBI agent really sucked.

* * *

><p>When Kurt stepped of the elevator in the Bureau next morning, he was better. Not perfectly fine but definitely better. He walked across the lower floor of the office, nodding to his teammates. He smiled to Mike as he passed his desk and was about to climb the stairs leading to the upper level and his room when his friend gestured him to come closer.<p>

"Johnson wants to see you." He said quietly.

Kurt raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Do you know why?"

He shrugged in response and shook his head. Kurt nodded and headed upstairs, trying to ignore the anxiety building up in his chest. Special Agent in Charge Richard Johnson was Kurt's direct superior, he almost didn't work in the field anymore, and usually didn't involve himself in the current cases. He trusted Kurt and all his decisions and Kurt had never given him any reason not to. That's why the request to see him seemed a little weird, maybe even suspicious. Well, he probably wanted to ask few questions about what happened the day before. No big deal. Right?

Kurt entered his room to take few deep breaths and then headed to Johnson's office. The door was partially opened so he knocked softly and peeked his head inside. He saw Johnson looking up from the files he was reading behind his desk.

"Good morning, sir. You wanted to see me?" Kurt asked tentatively.

"Oh yes, agent Hummel. Come in, sit down." Johnson said, putting the files aside. "Close the door."

Kurt did as he was told gulping slightly, grateful that he turned around to close the door so Johnson couldn't see the distress on his face. When he walked closer to his superior's desk, his face was already composed again, no sign of worry. _Years of practice as an agent come in handy in situations like this_, he thought as he sat down and waited for Johnson to start talking.

"I've heard what happened yesterday."

"I know, sir. I really am sorry for…" Kurt started to explain but Johnson raised his hand to stop him.

"I didn't call you here to blame you, agent Hummel. I've read the reports. There was nothing else you could have done, I would have done it in the same way."

Kurt released the breath he didn't even realize he was holding. So he's wasn't getting fired, that was good.

"But." The older agent continued. "I've noticed that it's not the first and not the second time. I have to admit, this Smythe is quite a scoundrel, isn't he?"

Kurt smiled inwardly at his boss' expression but managed to keep the straight face. "Yes, sir. He really is."

"That's why he needs to be locked up as soon as possible and I think we have to change the way we've been working on this." Johnson said. Kurt frowned a little but kept listening. "I'm not saying you're doing a wrong job, agent Hummel. I just think that maybe you could use some help from a person that is… a little more familiar with Smythe's methods."

"What do you mean, sir?" Kurt asked.

"I assume you remember Blaine Anderson." Kurt nodded. Of course he remembered that little bastard whom he caught five years ago. "He's in prison right now." He said.

"Yes." Johnson confirmed. "He has three years of his sentence left. But here's what you're going to do. You're going to offer Mr. Anderson a deal. In exchange for his help with capturing Smythe, we'll see what we can do about the remaining part of his sentence. During our cooperation, he'll be wearing an anklet monitor and be supervised by an agent for twenty-four hours. It means living with him and basically being joined by hip."

Kurt was staring at his boss with his eyes widened and mouth opened. "Sir… With all due respect, you… You can't be serious…" He stuttered after few minutes of dead silence. He took one calming breath and continued. "I've spend… We've spend so much time to get him. You can't just let him out! What if he flees before we catch Smythe? What if he hurts the supervising agent? What if…"

"Kurt." Johnson interrupted softly. It was so unusual for him to call the agents by their first names so it instantly shut Kurt up. "I know you've been working really hard on this case. It's been your case since the beginning. But let's face the facts. I'd much rather have Smythe locked up and Anderson's sentence commuted than have Anderson in prison and Smythe running free and killing people for fun. And to answer your question, I don't think Anderson would try anything to break the deal and run away. It would be nearly impossible with the anklet and the constant supervision. Besides, something tells me that he'd love to see Sebastian Smythe behind the bars even more than we do."

Kurt closed his eyes. Apparently Johnson had already made up his mind and even though Kurt didn't like it, he had to admit that his boss had a point. He sighed. "Can we actually do something like that?" He asked.

"I've already discussed it with the superiors and we have a permission." Johnson replied.

"Okay." Kurt said and rubbed his eyes. "Though I really feel sorry for the agent that will be responsible for Anderson, it will be like babysitting a grown-up baby."

When Johnson didn't say anything, Kurt looked up to see his boss staring at him with an amused expression on his face. Then something clicked in Kurt's head. His eyes widened in panic.

"No, no, sir, you can't, I don't have…" He started but again, he was interrupted.

"Yes, and I already talked to agent Lopez and I know that you have a very nice, empty guest room and that's really a shame that it's being wasted."

"I… I…" Kurt was speechless. _Santana Isabella Lopez, you're a dead woman._

"I'm sure you'll manage, agent Hummel. Now, you're expected at prison tomorrow morning to talk to Mr. Anderson and present him our deal. Do whatever you need to do to make him accept it. That's all, you can go back to your work now." Johnson said and Kurt could swear that he saw the old man smirking before he returned to the files he'd been reading before. Kurt nodded and got up, stiffly walked out of Johnson's office and headed to his own. After closing the door and pulling the curtains he sat by his desk and dropped his head to his hands.

He was about to make a pact with the devil.

* * *

><p><strong>Any thoughts? Review and tell me!<strong>

**K. **


	3. Chapter 2

**Happy Glee Day! :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Blaine Anderson was lying on his bed, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. He was bored. He was fucking bored out of his mind and there was nothing he could do about it. Well, there aren't a lot of possibilities when you're locked up in fucking prison. Yes, Blaine Anderson was in prison. He'd been there for five years now and hated absolutely every day of it. He hated the clothes he had to wear, he hated the food he had to eat, he hated the people he had to interact with, he hated the cell he had to live in, he hated everything and couldn't wait for the moment when he would finally get out of there. Three years more. One thousand and ninety-five days.

Blaine groaned and ran his hands through his hair. He sat up on the bed and reached for his sketchbook. Drawing was the only thing he had left, the only form of art he was allowed in this hellhole. He flicked through the filled pages, landmarks, faceless portraits, animals, plants. He found a clear one, took the pencil in hand and hovered it above the paper.

But nothing came. He sat like that for a few minutes more, waiting for a rush of inspiration to come into his head, anything. But nothing happened.

Frustrated, he threw the notebook across the cell and watched it hit the wall. The prison was killing him slowly from the inside. If he at least had music. But… there was nothing. Blaine leaned forward and dropped his head to his hands. He'd never felt so numb and empty in his life.

He didn't know how much time had passed but suddenly there was banging on the bars of the cell door. He looked up to see the guard, looking bored, as always. "Anderson. You have a visitor."

Blaine raised his eyebrows. A visitor? That was new. He stood up and walked to the opened door. The guard searched him briefly and Blaine rolled his eyes. _It's not like I'm going to stab you with a pencil, you moron. _They started walking but instead of the usual visiting area, the guard led him to one of the separate rooms, the ones that the lawyers usually used if they needed complete privacy to talk to their clients. The guard opened the door and gestured at Blaine to come in.

He stepped into the room and vaguely registered the sound of closing the door. His attention was drawn to another man who'd already been in the room. He was looking through the window and standing backwards so Blaine couldn't see his face but he had a strange feeling that this man seemed familiar.

"Why don't you take a seat, Mr. Anderson?" The visitor asked.

And Blaine knew this voice. He knew this voice all too well. When he didn't move, the man slowly turned around. Coiffed hair, pale skin, slight smirk and these piercing, blue eyes. He hadn't changed, not even a bit. "Fancy meeting you again." He spoke calmly.

"Sounds familiar." Blaine said quietly. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Special Agent Kurt Hummel?" He added snidely, slightly drawling man's title and name.

The agent didn't respond, instead, he moved from the place beside the window, and sat on one of the chairs. He propped his elbows on the table and looked at Blaine expectantly. After few moments of stillness and silence, the forger plopped down on the other chair, crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows mockingly.

Kurt almost rolled his eyes but managed to stop himself, figuring it wouldn't do him any good. "I see you remember me." He said nonchalantly.

Blaine scoffed. "Please. It's not that hard to remember the man who put you in the hellhole like this." _Especially if he looks like a fucking model._

"You're not enjoying your stay then?" Kurt quipped with a smirk, he couldn't help it.

The anger flashed through Blaine's face. He leaned towards Kurt. "Why are you here, Hummel?" He asked, his tone low and dangerous. "Because if it's only to boast about catching me and being a wonderful superhero agent, then I am really sorry to disappoint, but I'm not even remotely interested in that conversation and I'd much rather stare at the ceiling in my cell than talk to you. So unless you have something else to say-" He got up slowly. "-we're done here."

Kurt had to admit, it was going to be interesting. "Relax, and sit back down." He said calmly and waited for Blaine to sit before continuing. "We have an offer for you. You have three years of yours sentence left, am I correct?" Blaine nodded wordlessly. "Well, if you agreed to the deal, maybe we could do something about that."

"What deal exactly?" Blaine asked immediately, eyeing Kurt suspiciously.

"We are currently working on the case that we believe your… experience would help solve."

Blaine scoffed. "I'd rather die in here than cooperate with the feds that put me here in the first place. So, if you forgive me…"

"It's about Sebastian Smythe." Kurt interrupted him. Blaine stilled and Kurt could see his whole posture tensing. "We've been trying to get him since we caught you. No success so far."

"What makes you think that I'd want to help with that?" Blaine asked, his face and tone calm and composed. But inside he was livid. So this bastard was still out there. Sometimes he wondered if Sebastian had been killed somewhere and he truly hoped he hadn't. Not because he cared, oh no. That son of a bitch deserved something way more painful than death. Blaine wanted nothing more than to see him locked up, he would go crazy in here, he would lose his mind…

"Come on, Blaine." Kurt's voice broke through his thoughts. "I know you're not stupid, far from it actually."

Blaine smirked slightly at the compliment. "Oh, really? I'm flattered, _Kurt_." He said, basically purring agent's name.

Kurt ignored him and continued. "Five years ago we got a call from an anonymous caller who said you'd be at the docks around 5 p.m. After capturing you, we went through your phone and found a text message from Smythe, asking you to meet him at the docks at 5 p.m. Just like the tip said. At first it seemed that Smythe ran away when he realized that FBI had caught you. But we had been monitoring the area from 4 p.m., to 6 p.m., just in case. And I know for sure that Smythe had never showed up on the docks. So, for me it's pretty obvious who the anonymous caller was." Kurt paused. "And I think it's obvious for you, too."

Blaine hadn't move an inch since Kurt started talking. He sat there with his fists and jaw clenched but his hazel eyes showed no emotions. "What's your point?" He asked, his tone deathly neutral.

"You want revenge." Kurt said simply. "And it's understandable. Why wouldn't you? He destroyed your life. The question is; how much do you want him to suffer? Because I'm sure that you wouldn't want him dead. It would end way too fast, wouldn't it? No, he deserves so much more, he…"

"Enough." Blaine interrupted harshly. He stared right into Kurt's eyes, his own dark and suddenly full of anger.

"I thought so." Kurt chuckled quietly, well aware that he was currently playing with fire. "So, why don't you stop shooting daggers at me and listen to what I have to say?"

Blaine remained silent, so Kurt took it as the sign to continue. "If you graciously decide to help us, you'll have to wear an anklet monitor and an FBI agent wouldn't leave your side, which means you'd be living with them and you wouldn't be able to go anywhere without them or at least without their approval."

Blaine's posture changed a little and something shifted in his eyes, but Kurt couldn't quite pinpoint what it was so he made a note to himself to analyze it later. "You'd be working with us on Smythe's case, unless you'd be only pretending to help, then you're coming straight back here."

That being said, Kurt leaned back on the chair to observe Blaine. He looked different than at the beginning of this conversation. He wasn't glaring at Kurt anymore, he was currently looking at the wall on his right, looking much younger and lost in thought.

"What's the catch?" Blaine asked quietly after few minutes of silence.

"There's no catch." Kurt sat up straighter and shrugged. "Why would there be?"

Blaine looked at him incredulously. "You can't expect me to believe that you're going to get me out of this hell, let me live in a normal world and then maybe reduce my sentence only in exchange for help with catching the little prick that Smythe is." Blaine spit the name of his former partner like a poison. "There has to be a catch, there's _always_ a catch." He finished darkly, turning his gaze back to the wall.

Kurt scoffed at that. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you but, you see, in my world deals are made to be kept. And even if I'm not the biggest fan of this one, I'll keep it. I'd say to trust me but we both know it's not going to happen, so looks like you have to either take a risk or go back to your _fascinating_ life in your cozy cell."

After another few moments of silence, which were starting to piss Kurt off to be honest, Blaine slowly turned his head him to him and his demeanor was, once again, changed. He looked at Kurt piercingly with shining hazel eyes, wearing this arrogant smirk that Kurt hated the most.

"Okay, gorgeous." He said as his eyes twinkled mischievously. "Since you've come all the way here and presented me _such_ a generous offer…"

Blaine started leaning forward, still keeping his gaze on Kurt. "I think you've got yourself a deal." He breathed basically in Kurt's face. After that he leaned back and studied Kurt's expression. He had to admit, teasing Hummel was definitely the most entertaining thing that had happened to him since being caught, so he wasn't going to waste the opportunity to practice his skills and have a little fun.

In the meantime, Kurt was silently thanking God he didn't believe in for the self-control he managed to maintain and for stopping the involuntary shiver that threatened to run through his body when he felt Blaine's hot breath on his lips. _Don't let it affect you, don't give him the satisfaction_. He didn't avert his gaze from the forger and gave himself a mental high five for keeping his face expressionless.

"Excellent." Kurt said with a polite smile, his voice sure and steady. He reached to his briefcase and pulled out a folder with some documents. After some searching, he took out few sheets of paper, and moved them towards Blaine along with the pen. "I'm going to need you to sign these."

Blaine took the documents, and started going through them, leaning comfortably at the back of his chair. Kurt looked at him slightly shocked. Apparently, legal stuff was another area that Blaine Anderson was familiar with. After few minutes of reading Blaine glanced up at him and smirked, _again._

"Don't look so surprised. You assumed correctly, I'm not going to trust you." He said with the amusement and went back to reading. Kurt wondered briefly if Blaine was only messing with him or if he actually was checking the content of the contract. Before he had time to dwell on it, the forger sat up straighter and took the pen to sign the documents.

"Everything looks fine." He said, and pushed the signed papers to Kurt. "Though I'm quite surprised that our wonderfully strict and boring FBI agreed to something like that."

"You're not the only one." Kurt muttered quietly before he could stop himself. He quickly put the documents back to his briefcase. "Okay, so looks like that's all." He said, standing up. "You'll be picked up tomorrow morning."

He headed to the exit and was by the door when Blaine spoke. "By whom?"

Kurt closed his eyes. "By the agent you'll be living with." He answered after a short pause without turning around and exited the room. He nodded to the guard but before walking away he could have sworn he heard a low chuckle and Blaine's voice from behind the door that made him stop dead in his tracks.

"Then see you tomorrow, pretty boy."

* * *

><p>After talking to the prison governor and informing him about the details of Anderson's departure, Kurt headed back to his car. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he released the breath he'd seemed to be holding since his encounter with Blaine. He was exhausted after barely forty-five minutes of playing games with the forger and it would only get worse when he'd have to share his apartment with him. He groaned loudly at the thought.<p>

Murdering Santana and dumping her body in the Hudson had never sounded more appealing.

Kurt sighed and checked his watch. It was still too early to head back home, he had to make an appearance at the Bureau so he could at least pretend to be working. He winced when he remembered the stack of paperwork waiting for him on his desk and he still hadn't written the report about the Smythe fiasco. Wonderful. There's nothing better than describing your huge failure in details for your boss to read. _Even if said boss doesn't think of it as a failure, still._

Sighing, Kurt started the engine and drove to the work. After leaving the car in the underground parking, he decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to get something for lunch and that the paperwork would still be in his office in 30 minutes.

He walked out of the building and headed to his favorite coffee shop. "Piu Bella Cosa" was placed just around the corner and was owned by an Italian family. It was small and cozy, unlike the loud Starbucks Kurt's colleagues seemed to be obsessed with. Kurt opened the door and stepped in, the scent of fresh coffee and muffins immediately hitting him and making him realize how hungry he actually was. He walked to the counter and smiled to Mary, the girl that usually worked at the time Kurt was getting lunch.

"Hello, Kurt!" She greeted him cheerfully. "The usual?"

"As always." He answered with a smile and took out his wallet. "I'm just as boring as that."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true at all!" She said, and winked playfully. Kurt sometimes wondered how she managed to be this chirpy every day. He laughed and shook his head. He paid and moved to the other end of the counter when his phone started ringing. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. _Johnson._

"Good afternoon, sir." He answered formally.

"_How did it go?"_ His boss asked right away, without wasting time for any introductions.

Kurt took a deep breath. "He agreed."

"_Good. When are you picking him up?"_

"Tomorrow morning, sir."

"_I'm expecting you both at the office day after tomorrow. The sooner he starts working on the case, the better."_

"Of course, sir." Kurt said, hoping his boss wouldn't hear the bitterness in his voice.

"_Alright. Well done, agent Hummel. I assume it wasn't easy to get him to agree. Good job."_

"Thank you, sir." Kurt said quietly and then Johnson hung up.

As soon as the call ended, he heard his name being called. He picked up the tray with his food and coffee, and looked around to find a table. With relief, he noticed that his favorite one, next to the window, was empty. He tiredly plopped down on the chair and took a sip of his grand non-fat mocha. He sank his teeth in his sandwich with tomato and mozzarella and swallowed down the moan of pleasure that was threating to leave his throat. This sandwich was a pure heaven and Kurt, as a fan number one of the Italian food, definitely approved. In moments like this, he wished he could abandon all the worries, and simply live in that little coffee shop. Just as he was wondering if there was any way to elope with his delicious sandwich and get married in Vegas, his phone buzzing with a new text pulled him out of his reverie.

**Santana: **_**The word on the street is that you're getting a hot piece of ass to live with you.**_

Kurt huffed in annoyance. That evil woman. What was it that made her think it would be a good thing to make him live with the criminal, Kurt had no idea, but he'd find out and give her a piece of his mind, that's for sure. But knowing Santana Lopez, she had no ulterior motives, she was just being a bitch.

**Kurt: **_**We're talking about it when I get to the Bureau. **_

After sending the message, he quickly finished the sandwich and drank the rest of his coffee. Standing up, he smiled to the Mary who waved at him cheerfully from behind the counter and then stepped outside of the coffee shop. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of a cool fall air. It was an early October, Kurt's absolutely favourite time of the year. He smiled slightly as he felt the light gust of the wind and with that smile on his face he made his way back to the work.

As it turned out, Santana wasn't there when he arrived. As Mike informed him, she was out on a stake-out and wouldn't be back in the Bureau until the next day. _How convenient, _Kurt thought bitterly, shutting the door to his office. He sat behind the desk and ominously eyed the pile of papers lying in front of him. With a sigh he started working, letting it take his mind of everything else.

* * *

><p>It wasn't before he was at his apartment, lying in his bed with Satine snuggled by his side, when Blaine Anderson's words came back to him.<p>

_Then see you tomorrow, pretty boy._

* * *

><p><strong>Please, review?<strong>

**Have a great day! :)**

**K.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Hello again! I'm sorry that it's been so long since I updated but exams and studying got in the way. But now, finally, I'm done, so I hope I manage to update regularly :)**

**As always, thanks to my awesome betas, Shy and Ida :) Oh, and happy Glee day!**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

If anyone who didn't know Blaine looked at him after he got back to his cell, they wouldn't have noticed anything unusual. The same confident posture, the same faint slightly mocking smirk on his face. What they wouldn't see was the little glint that appeared in his eyes, barely visible to average people. But it was there. It was there because inside, Blaine was ecstatic. He wouldn't do anything about that, not yet; he'd wait for the darkness to engulf the cells and to cover him completely. Only then he'd let it go, let the happiness overtake him, just for a little while. But not before then. Because in this world, showing your emotions to the others was a mistake, one that could cost you your life.

So Blaine waited.

He did what he'd always done during the day. Stare at the ceiling, eat, read. What else can you do in prison? Finally, when the night came, Blaine eagerly got up from the bed and walked to the little, barred window, and looked up to the tiny piece of starry sky he was able to see. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd be out there. A big, wolfish grin slowly appeared on his face. Blaine Anderson was coming back. He wasn't entirely sure how his life would look from now on, but it didn't bother him that much. For now, he had only one goal.

Do whatever it took to bring Sebastian Smythe down.

* * *

><p>When the morning came, Blaine had been wide awake since the moment he opened his eyes. He wasn't exactly a morning person but today was different. He could feel the excitement building up in his chest, and he had to stop himself from counting the minutes until he would be picked up by the one and only Special Agent Kurt Hummel.<p>

Blaine smirked devilishly at the thought of the FBI agent. When he asked who would pick him up, the short pause and the agent's curt reply were enough for Blaine to know that it would be none other than Kurt Hummel himself. Which meant that he'd be his supervising agent, which in turn meant they'd be living together. And Blaine simply couldn't wait to make Hummel's life a living hell.

Blaine didn't have to wait too long for the procedure of his release to begin. He didn't have a lot to take, so when the guard came to collect him he grabbed his notebooks and pencils, and that was basically it. He hoped that the personal things he had with him when he was captured, were still somewhere in the prison storage or wherever they kept this stuff. The guard led him to the small room where he was handed a pile of clothes. _Oh, goodbye then, my lovely orange suit, _Blaine thought happily and then noticed that those were his old clothes, the ones he was wearing on this fatal day, five years ago. He smiled slightly when he saw his old leather jacket, he really missed wearing it.

Just as he finished getting dressed, two men entered the room.

"Ready for the last of your accessories?" One of them asked, holding up the black piece of metal.

The forger nodded reluctantly and pulled up the jeans on his right leg, uncovering the ankle. The man bent down and quickly clasped the monitor. Blaine moved his foot experimentally. It felt… weird. It wasn't uncomfortable, but Blaine could feel the cold metal against his skin and the slight pressure of the device. It would take a while to get used to it.

Suddenly, the other man handed him a box. "There are your things you had with you on the day you were arrested." He said. "No phone though, it's been confiscated by the FBI. And, of course, no gun."

"Of course." Blaine muttered, looking into the contents of the box. There wasn't much. Only the keys to his apartment, his wallet. With a relief he noticed the silver ring, lying on the bottom. He pulled it out and examined it carefully, it seemed unharmed. He placed it on his finger and put the other items in his pockets, and looked at the men expectantly.

They led him through the different halls until they reached the courtyard. They passed it quickly and soon reached the front prison door.

"Your ride is waiting outside." One of the men said and nodded to the guard standing beside the door. Without a word, he opened the door.

Blaine threw one last short glance at the buildings behind them and then stepped outside, for the first time in five years. The door behind him closed quietly. Tentatively, he took a few steps forward. Before he had time to process the thought that he was finally free, he noticed the black car parked a few feet away. But it wasn't the car that made him stop in his tracks.

There, leaning against the car, was Kurt Hummel. The agent was typing something on his phone and hadn't noticed Blaine yet, so he used that moment to take a good look at the man. He was wearing tight, dark jeans which made his stretched legs look amazingly long, and the navy coat that perfectly accentuated his slim waist. His hair was flawlessly styled, the pale skin was almost glowing in the sun beams, and it all made Blaine remember the first thought that crossed his mind when he saw Kurt Hummel for the first time.

_Damn, he's hot._

Had Hummel not been the damn FBI agent that put him in jail and the man Blaine hated almost as much as he hated Sebastian Smythe, he probably wouldn't have hesitated even for a second about taking him somewhere and having his way with him. Unfortunately, that was not an option. _What a shame, to waste such a good fuck, _Blaine thought with a slight frustration, but he quickly pushed that feeling away. It wouldn't do him any good.

He crossed his arms and straightened his posture. "Are we going to go anytime soon or…?" He asked.

Kurt's head snapped up, and suddenly Blaine was faced with a piercing stare of the blue, cold eyes.

"You took your time." The agent said in a bored tone, pocketing his phone.

"I'm sorry; I was busy picking the jewelry." Blaine said mockingly, gesturing the ankle monitor. "Couldn't decide what to wear."

"Well, it certainly fits you." Kurt retorted snidely and pushed himself from where he was leaning against the car. "Get in, we have a lot to do." He said as he opened the door and sat behind the steering wheel.

"Bossy." Blaine muttered and made his way to the passenger door. He slowly got inside, satisfied when he caught, with the corner of his eye, Kurt's fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. "By the way, I'm gonna need your exact address. Oh, and your phone."

"Excuse me?" Kurt asked, arching his eyebrow.

"I need my stuff. I have to call my friend and tell him to bring it to your place." Blaine said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Your stuff?" Kurt asked incredulously. "What stuff? You _just_ got out of prison, where did you…" He stopped abruptly. "We've never found your apartment." He said slowly.

"And people think nothing can ever hide from you, the FBI, the brightest minds." Blaine snorted. "But in reality you're just babes in the woods, unable to do anything right by your own." He finished quietly, distain lacing his voice.

Kurt gritted his teeth and slowly breathed out through his nose. How was he supposed to survive living with this man without killing him; he had no idea.

"Are you done?" He asked, forcing himself to sound like he was already bored by the conversation. "And back to your request or I should rather say, your demand, you're not giving my address to your buddy. The last thing I need is another… suspicious, probably crime related individual to know my personal address."

Blaine opened his mouth to reply, but Kurt wasn't quite done yet. "But, know my mercy, we can stop by your place and you can take your things."

"If you think that I'm going to show you where I used to live, then you're either incredibly stupid or you think that _I _am incredibly stupid." Blaine retorted. "You were right yesterday – I don't trust you. There's no way I'm taking you to my apartment."

Kurt threw his hands up in exasperation. "You're ridiculous! Why do you have to treat everything as a conspiracy against you?! Guess what, Anderson, not everything revolves around you!"

Blaine watched Kurt in amusement as he breathed heavily after his angry outburst. "Are you done?" He mimicked Kurt's earlier question. "God, you're such a drama queen." He chuckled, ignoring the fire that was literally blazing from Kurt's eyes. "Fine, let me be the first one to offer a compromise. You give me your phone, I call my friend, and we meet with him somewhere in public. How does that sound, _roomie_?" Blaine said, snickering slightly at the term.

Kurt closed his eyes. From the beginning he knew this wouldn't be easy. Both he and Anderson were as stubborn as a mule, but if he wanted to make this cooperation work, he had to find a way to compromise with the forger and this seemed like a good start. He handed Blaine his phone without a word and then his thoughts wandered back to the situation he had been put in. It was a nightmare, and it had been only what, 10 minutes?

Kurt groaned inwardly. All he wanted to do was to lie on his couch, maybe snuggle with Satine, and watch some trashy shows on his tv. _God knows when I'll have a chance to do it, _he thought bitterly. Faintly, he could hear Anderson making plans with a guy named Wes, and Kurt couldn't decide if he wanted the time to fly or to crawl. On the one hand, he wanted to drive around for hours, anything to postpone going to his apartment, and making it no longer his private, personal space. On the other hand, he wanted to get it over already, start working, find Smythe and get rid of Anderson as soon as possible. His internal struggle was interrupted by Blaine giving him his phone back.

"Let's go. I'll tell you where to drive." He said while he fastened his seat belt. He laughed loudly when he saw the dubious look Kurt gave him. "Relax, pretty boy. I'm not going to lead you to some dark alley and murder you."

"Don't call me that." Kurt muttered, and started the engine.

After following Blaine's directions they ended up in a parking lot at the back of a supermarket, actually not that far from Kurt's place. When they arrived, there was already a silver car waiting for them. As they pulled up, an Asian man got out and smiled widely. When Kurt stopped the engine, he looked to Blaine and, for a second, he could see the small smile on his face and the way his eyes lit up a little. It lasted shorter than a blink of an eye and when Blaine turned to him, his expression was neutral and calculated, as always. At first, Kurt intended to go with him but after seeing that little change… "I'll wait for you in the car." He said before he had time to change his mind.

He saw the mild surprise in Blaine's eyes, but then the forger shrugged and got out of the car. "As you wish, gorgeous." Kurt's expression clouded at the name, but the door was shut closed before he had the time to snap.

Blaine made his way to the man waiting by the silver car and when he was sure that Hummel could only see his back, he smiled widely. He opened his arms and the man basically crashed him with the force he flew himself into him.

"It's good to see you, Wes." He said, hugging the man tightly.

"I missed you, you know." Wes mumbled in his shoulder. They parted and suddenly the Asian slapped him hard on the head. "You son of a bitch." He added with a grin.

"Hey!" Blaine exclaimed. "What was that for?"

"For going to prison for five years, you bastard!" This time, Wes punched him in the arm.

"Okay, okay, stop hitting me!" Blaine shouted with a smile, raising his hands up. "You know it wasn't exactly my fault."

"I know." Wes said darkly. "I swear, if I ever see that motherfucker… He's going to wish he never met me."

"Hold your horses, Wesley, at least for now." Blaine said. "I guess I should tell you how I got out from jail, huh?"

Wes looked at him curiously. Seeing Blaine's hesitance, he frowned. "Blaine. Who's the guy in the car?"

Blaine looked down and sighed. "He's a fed." He heard Wes gasp, but continued. "They offered me a deal. They want me to help them catch Sebastian in exchange for getting my sentence commuted."

"That's… actually not that bad." Wes said slowly. "And they let you out, just like that?"

"I'm wearing an ankle monitor." Blaine said. "And they're making me live with this guy." He added, gesturing at the car Kurt was waiting in.

After knowing Blaine for so many years, Wes didn't miss the hatred in his friend's voice and the steely look that flashed in his eyes. "Why do you hate him so much?" He asked, and seeing Blaine raising his eyebrow, he crossed his arms and smiled. "Come on, Blaine, I know all of your faces and tones. What did he do to you?"

"He's the one that put me behind bars." Blaine said with a murderous expression. "Plus, he's a jerk with a stick up his ass."

Wes had seen this look way to many times and it usually meant nothing good. He shook his head and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Don't do anything stupid, Blaine." He warned. "It's your chance, don't blow it."

Blaine put a hand on his heart. "Wesley, you wound me, you act like you don't know me at all!" He exclaimed in a fake surprise.

"I do know you, that's precisely why I'm worried." Wes muttered.

Blaine laughed loudly and patted his friend's back. "Come on, give me my things."

The two men walked to the car and Wes opened the trunk. "Your emergency bags, they're all here. You're taking everything?"

"Well, not the one with the weapons, that's for sure." Blaine said as he went through the things in the trunk, hoping Hummel wouldn't choose that moment to walk over and check on them. He took out two big duffel bags and looked back to Wes. "Thank you, Wes." He said sincerely.

"Anytime." Wes said and stepped closer to Blaine to hug him. "Your babysitter seems to be getting impatient." He said gesturing slightly to the car where Kurt was staring at them intently. "Please, please, don't get in too much trouble?" He whispered teasingly.

Blaine patted him on the back, pulled away and winked with a smirk. "I make no promises. I'll see you soon, Wes."

With one last smile, he grabbed the bags and headed towards where the FBI agent was waiting for him. When Kurt saw him coming, he exited the car.

"I'll have to go through them." He said when Blaine walked closer, gesturing to the bags. Blaine nodded wordlessly and put them inside the trunk. He left it open and leaned on the car, looking at Kurt expectantly. The agent rolled his eyes and bowed down to examine the bags. He searched them quickly, finding nothing but clothes and some art supplies, nothing special or dangerous. He closed the trunk. "Everything looks fine." He said shortly and both men moved to the car door to get in the car. Kurt eyed Blaine briefly, but it didn't seem like the forger was going to say anything, so he started the engine and drove out of the parking lot, swiftly joining the traffic.

The ride was spent in silence and it didn't last even half as long as Kurt hoped it would. Too soon he was parking the car on the street next to the block he lived in; too soon it was time to go inside. Kurt got out of the car and quickly took a deep breath and turned around, only to find Blaine already pulling the bags from the opened trunk. When he was done, Kurt locked the car and started walking to the building entrance, Blaine following right behind him. He didn't offer his help with carrying the baggage, but Anderson seemed to be doing just fine. Kurt nodded to the doorman, making a mental note to come down later and inform him about the man that would temporarily live with him, therefore he would show up there very often. They took the elevator and when they stepped outside on the right floor, Kurt broke the silence.

"Are you allergic to cats?" He asked without looking at Blaine, too busy searching for the keys in his satchel. _Please, say yes, it would be so much fun to watch you suffer._

"No?" Blaine said just as they stopped outside Kurt's apartment.

_What a pity, _Kurt thought as he opened the door. They entered the small hall and Kurt gestured on the door to the next room, indicating Blaine to go in. The agent himself leaned on the door frame and watched his new roommate look around somewhat curiously, when suddenly a loud "meow" echoed in the apartment and Satine appeared in the middle of the room, coming seemingly out of nowhere.

"Oh, who do we have here?" Blaine said quietly, taking a few steps in the direction of the cat.

Kurt smirked devilishly. Satine _hated_ new people, anyone who tried to touch her without being around for at least a few weeks, usually ended up with multiple scratches on their hands, sometimes even face if they were persistent. But Anderson didn't really need to know that.

Meanwhile, Blaine crouched in front of Satine and slowly reached out his hand, stopping it right in front of her. Kurt waited for the inevitable attack, but to his great surprise (and yes, disappointment), after the moment of staring, instead of pouncing, Satine came closer, and hesitantly sniffed Blaine's hand. He watched her, still as a statue, and chuckled in amusement when the cat started purring and rubbing her head against his palm. He slowly lifted her up and got up from the floor, scratching slightly behind her ears.

"Hello there, beautiful." He muttered lowly. "I guess I have your approval then?"

Kurt stared at the scene in front of him in astonishment. Blaine must have sensed him staring because, suddenly, he lifted his head and looked right back at Kurt. When he noticed his eyes widened in surprise, he raised his eyebrow derisively.

Kurt clenched his jaw. For a second, he forgot just how annoying Anderson's expressions and behavior were. "I see you and Satine are already acquainted." He said, moving in the direction of the guest room.

"Satine? That's an interesting choice of name for a cat." The forger said, still petting the delighted cat in his arms.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's from…"

"Moulin Rouge." Blaine interrupted. Kurt turned his head abruptly, the surprise evident in his eyes. Blaine snorted at his expression. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Hummel."

Kurt opened his mouth to say something, but then he changed his mind and simply gestured at the door to the guest room. "That's where you'll be staying."

Blaine carefully put Satine down, grabbed his bags and crossed the living room to stand in the door of his, for the time being, room. Kurt was about to make up some excuse to leave him alone and get a moment for himself when he noticed that something wasn't right. Blaine's whole posture was stiff, his fists were clenched tightly at the bags' straps and he was staring intently at something in the room. Kurt moved closer and followed his line of sight. The object that seemed to drown the forger's attention was an old piano, the one that belonged to his mother and was put in the guest room because of the lack of space in the living room.

"Is it tuned?" Blaine asked quietly. Kurt looked at him for a moment, slightly confused by the sudden change in Blaine's demeanor, though really, he should have been used to that by now.

"Actually, yes, it is." He replied slowly. He didn't miss something flashing through Blaine's eyes, another emotion he yet had to decipher. "I don't really have much time to use it though, it could use some practice so..." He finished the sentence with a wave of his hand in the direction of the piano. Blaine was still staring at the instrument so he backed out of the room. "I'll leave you for now then."

He went to his bedroom and closed the door. He leaned against it and took a few deep breaths. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, Anderson's mood swings were more unpredictable than a pregnant woman's, but he would figure it out. The agent rubbed his temples tiredly and wanted nothing more than to drop himself on the bed to wallow in his misery when he realized that he was still wearing his coat. He sighed and exited his room and made his way to the hall. After hanging the coat, he walked back to the living room, noticing Satine lying in a sun spot. _You little traitor, _Kurt thought bitterly. He stood in the middle of the room, not sure what to do. Having a criminal in his apartment made him feel uneasy and he couldn't exactly act all relaxed like he used to when he was home. No, now he had to be in a full agent mode and have his guard up all the time. And the worst thing was that he had absolutely no idea what to expect.

He walked to the bookcase and looked at the photos sitting there. He took the one of his parents, taken on their wedding day. He smiled softly as he traced their smiling faces with his fingers. He sighed sadly and put the frame back on the shelf.

"I wish you were here." Kurt whispered quietly.

* * *

><p>Blaine couldn't explain what happened to him when he saw the piano. The sudden feeling of nostalgia and sadness caught him so off guard, and to be honest, he was glad, if not slightly surprised, that Hummel didn't push and simply left him alone.<p>

After the agent closed the door behind him, Blaine quickly unpacked his things to the empty drawers and shelves, pushed the empty bags under the bed, and looked at the piano again. He would never admit it to anyone, but music used to be his dream. Even though his life took him in a slightly different direction, it had always been a big part of him. With a smile, he remembered his old piano, still waiting safely for him in his apartment. He took a step closer to the instrument, but something was stopping him. He shook his head and walked to the bed. He lied down, stared at the ceiling and kept thinking.

_What are you afraid of?_

* * *

><p><strong>Review? :)<strong>

**K. xx**


	5. Chapter 4

**I'm back!**

**I'm sorry it took me so long. Unfortunately, studying law and writing don't get along very well, hence the long wait. But to make up for it – here's the longest chapter so far :)**

**Please, go to my tumblr – there's a page about Burn With You and there are some pics of things featured in this chapter (my tumblr is dont-stop-believin-in-klaine, the link is in my bio).**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Kurt groaned tiredly as he looked at the alarm clock standing on the nightstand. The bright red numbers mercilessly showed that it was 5:07am. Last time he checked, it was 5am, but Kurt could have sworn that it felt like it had been at least 30 minutes since then. He sighed. The night had been simply awful. At first, he couldn't fall asleep, the thought of a stranger sleeping or doing God knows what in the next room was continuously lingering on his mind. When he managed to finally doze off it wasn't much of a relief. The sleep he fell into was restless, so when he woke up at 4:30am, he wasn't feeling even slightly more rested than before going to bed. After tossing around, he finally gave up the hope of getting any more sleep and slowly sat up in the bed. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and got up in compliance.

After brushing his teeth in the bathroom, he headed to the kitchen and started the coffee machine. He leaned on the counter as he waited and let his mind go back to the previous evening. Blaine didn't say anything after he left him in his room to unpack; he didn't react when Kurt informed him later that they would be leaving at 8am. He was simply lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, so Kurt left him alone and retreated to his own bedroom. Later in the evening, he could hear Blaine walking into the bathroom, then returning to his room. Other than that, no signs of the forger.

Kurt poured the coffee in his favorite mug and settled in an armchair. He wasn't awake enough to focus on reading or watching anything, so he just leaned back, closed his eyes and sipped his coffee, letting the warmth spread through his body. He sighed in contentment. It was his chance to enjoy the peace and quiet, at least for a short while, and he was going to make the most of it.

* * *

><p>Blaine's eyes snapped open when he heard a sound coming from somewhere in the apartment. It sounded suspiciously like a coffee machine so he glanced at the clock standing on the nightstand.<p>

5:20am.

Blaine groaned quietly. If Hummel was such a morning person, this would be a lot harder than he anticipated. There was no way he was going to fall asleep again, he'd always been a light sleeper and being in prison made him even more sensitive to even the slightest sound. He sat up in bed and ran his fingers through his hair. His gaze fell on the piano standing in the corner of the room. He could almost feel it pulling him, but one thing was still holding him back. It was simple. He was afraid of getting lost in it again, having his passion back, only to have it ripped from him again. He had no guarantee of never going back to prison and this, music, was something that he missed the most. Not painting, drawing or sketching, but playing, the lack of it almost drove him insane. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut. He missed it _so much. _

Abruptly, he jumped off the bed and crossed the small distance between the bed and the piano in two long strides. He sat on the bench and took a deep breath, his fingers hovering above the keyboard. With a small smile, he started playing the only melody that seemed right at the moment.

He was done being afraid.

* * *

><p>Kurt was suddenly pulled out from his reverie by the sound of music. Someone was playing the piano. He was confused at first, but after a while he realized that the sound was coming from his own apartment, from behind the closed door of Anderson's bedroom, to be precise. And, Kurt noticed in astonishment, he was <em>good.<em> Really, really good. And the melody he was playing? It sounded familiar, Kurt was sure he'd heard the song before, but couldn't quite place it at the moment. But it was beautiful. It sounded so raw and passionate, like it was very close to Blaine's heart, and for a second Kurt felt bad for somehow intruding such an intimate moment, but then he remembered that it was _Anderson_, the guy he hated, and he really shouldn't care about his feelings and he definitely shouldn't feel guilty at all… But he still did and he couldn't explain why. Kurt shook his head, he was being ridiculous.

With the last note, the playing stopped and Kurt heard the bedroom door open and the shuffle of footsteps. He slowly released his breath when he heard the bathroom door close, which meant he still had a few minutes to compose and steel himself for whatever this day would bring. After a few minutes, Blaine appeared, yawning, from the little hall between their bedrooms and the bathroom. Kurt turned in his direction, but whatever he was going to say, suddenly flew out of his mind, the words dying in his throat. Blaine was leaning against the doorframe, shirtless, the sweatpants hanging lowly and loosely on his hips. His black curls were a mess and his face was covered with stubble. Kurt took in his broad chest and arms, and the V-line, barely above the hem of the sweats… Suddenly, he heard the quiet snort and his eyes snapped up to Blaine's unimpressed face.

"See something you like, pretty boy?" He asked, with his eyebrows raised.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Not particularly." He said, recovering quickly. "And don't call me that." He added, though he figured it was pointless, Anderson never seemed to do what he asked for.

Blaine shrugged without saying a word and yawned again. Kurt looked at him with amusement. "Someone's grumpy in the morning." He said mockingly.

"Well, _someone_ woke me up." Blaine grumbled annoyingly. "Do you always get up that early? Because if you do, we're gonna have a fucking problem."

"My apologies." Kurt said, not really meaning it. "But to answer your question, no, I don't."

"Thank god." Blaine mumbled, moving to the kitchen area. The agent watched him maneuvering easily around the kitchen, like he'd been doing it for years, and Kurt hated how quickly he accommodated, how on ease the forger was while he still couldn't feel right in his _own apartment_, for God's sake. That's why he decided to retreat to his bedroom, so he didn't have to face Anderson for any longer than absolutely necessary.

"We're leaving at 8." He said curtly as he got up from the armchair.

"Yes, sir." Blaine saluted with a mocking grin and it took all the willpower Kurt could muster not to punch him in the face. He said nothing and walked back to his room, unaware of Blaine leaning on the counter and watching him in amusement.

When he emerged from the bedroom right before 8am, Blaine was already there, dressed in dark wash jeans and plain red t-shirt, his black leather jacket lying on the couch. He was slowly strolling along the shelves and watching the photos placed there and, to Kurt's chagrin, holding Satine in his arms, petting her while the cat purred in delight. When he heard Kurt entering the living room, he gently put her on the floor and moved to the couch to throw his jacket on.

"Before you even suggest it, I'm not wearing a suit." He said when he noticed Kurt eyeing him disdainfully. The agent shook his head, huffing in annoyance and walked in the direction of the hall.

Blaine smirked and shamelessly raked his eyes over the agent's body before he disappeared behind the door. The man was a pain in the ass, but speaking of ass, he had a _great_ one, so the least Blaine could do was appreciate the view.

"You coming?" He heard Kurt calling from the hall.

"Sure thing, gorgeous." Blaine said, grinning in satisfaction when he could basically hear Hummel gritting his teeth in order to stop himself from snapping. _He's making it so easy, _he thought with joy and followed Kurt out of the apartment.

_Time to make FBI at least a little less helpless._

* * *

><p>Apparently, the news about FBI's newest asset had spread around, because as soon as they exited the elevator and entered the office, the eyes of other agents immediately fell on Anderson. Most of them were eyeing him with curiosity, but Kurt didn't miss the sight of a few agents shaking their heads in disapproval. He glared at them warningly and turned to one of the younger agents standing nearby.<p>

"Are Chang and Lopez already in?" He asked.

"They're waiting in the conference room, boss." The woman said.

Kurt nodded and gestured at the forger to follow him when he headed to the stairs leading to the upper part of the office. Noticing few agents still gawking at them, he rolled his eyes.

"Don't you have work to do?" He asked loudly without turning around as he and Blaine climbed the stairs. He heard a hasty scurrying behind him and chuckled, but a quiet snort coming from Blaine quickly brought him back to Earth.

"Problem?" He asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope." Blaine said, shaking his head with a smirk.

Kurt shot him an annoyed glare and said nothing as he opened the door to the conference room. Mike and Santana were chatting at the end of the table and their heads snapped up when they heard the two men entering the room.

Kurt smiled dryly at them. "Guys, meet Blaine Anderson." He said, hoping that the dislike wasn't too evident in his voice. He turned to the forger. "These are Special Agents Santana Lopez and Michael Chang."

Mike nodded in a greeting with a neutral expression on his face but Santana was a completely different story. "Oh, so that's this famous guy who can allegedly steal and forge anything? Forgive me, with your height and these curls I almost mistook you for a hobbit that ran away from the Shire."

Blaine narrowed his eyes. "And here I thought that FBI's standards were a little too high for them to hire a stripper. Tell me, do you use your surgically made boobs to distract the guys you're chasing when you can't catch up with them because of those heels or…?"

Santana's eyes flashed with anger and she stood up. "Listen, you little…"

"Enough." Kurt interrupted firmly, his glare almost lighting everyone in the room on fire. "No matter how entertaining I find the unmistakable love between the two of you, it's neither the time nor the place for this. We have work to do." He said as he sat down on one of the chairs. For a few more seconds Blaine and Santana stared into each other's eyes, then reluctantly took their places behind the table.

"Excellent." Kurt said. "Let's start with the most recent of Smythe's hits."

"The most recent of your screw ups, you meant to say?" Blaine said, smirking slightly.

Kurt breathed through his nose, trying not to pounce at Anderson and strangle him with his bare hands. He opened one of the files and pushed it to the forger.

"A few months ago one of the rich art collectors decided to organize an exhibition to show off his newest purchase, a blue diamond." Kurt started. "Almost immediately a few of our CIs reported that there had been an announcement made on the streets – Sebastian Smythe planned to steal the diamond and for anyone who would try to interfere or forestall him, that would be the last thing they ever did."

At Blaine's raised eyebrows, Kurt smiled thinly. "He's made quite a name for himself since you've been gone. Anyway." He continued. "We set up the surveillance outside of the building the exhibition was held in, and we waited. Nothing happened… until last week. There were no signs of Smythe, or anyone else for that matter, entering the building, when suddenly the alarms went off. We hurried inside only to find the empty showcase. And that's it." Kurt finished bitterly with a shrug. "No diamond, no Smythe."

"And you're sure he's the one who did it?" Blaine asked.

"Definitely." Mike said. "He left his signature card in the showcase, another thing he started doing after you were locked up." He handed Blaine a card in a plastic evidence bag. It was a simple white business card with the black logo, the double _**S**_. "Our best shot is to assume that he somehow sneaked in and out without us noticing him."

"What about the cameras inside?" The forger asked.

"They weren't working." Kurt said with a sigh. "The personnel said there had been some kind of a failure."

"Of course." Blaine muttered with a roll of his eyes. He leaned back on the chair. "Well, I'm sorry to ruin your theory, but I don't think Sebastian was there at all." He said. "He had to have help from the inside, the person who took care of stealing the diamond while he was supervising the hit from the safe distance."

"That's what we thought at the beginning, but we questioned and searched all the people that were working there during the break-in, we didn't find the diamond. And after running their names through all of our bases, we ruled out all of them, none of them had any connections to Smythe or any encounters with the law."

"Unless they gave you a fake name which is exactly what a person working with Smythe would do." Blaine said with an amused expression, like it was an obvious thing. "Do you have the list of the personnel?"

Santana nodded and after rummaging one of the files, she handed him a sheet of paper. Blaine took it and started examining it, searching for anything sounding familiar. He almost gave up when suddenly one name drew his attention. He hummed pensively.

"What is it?" Kurt asked. "Do you know anyone?"

"Not exactly." Blaine said slowly. "But this one name…" He stood up and walked to the white board standing in the corner of the room. He wrote the name in big letters.

**ANTHONY SAMUEL ROGERS**

"What about it? Looks like an average name." Santana said skeptically.

But Blaine didn't seem to hear her as he was intently staring at the black words. Suddenly, he wiped the first and the middle name and rewrote it.

**TONY S. ROGERS**

"What are you trying to achieve here?" Kurt asked. "I don't see how…"

"Hush." Blaine silenced him. Kurt narrowed his eyes, he _hated _being interrupted, and was about to retort angrily, when the forger turned to look at them with a triumphant smirk. "Do any of you happen to be a Marvel fan?" He asked.

Santana looked at him incredulously. "Hobbit, what the fuck is your point? Because, honestly, you're starting to piss me off."

Kurt was about to finally agree with her on something when he heard a sudden gasp.

"Oh my god." Mike whispered in awe. When everyone's eyes turned to him, he stood up and walked to the board.

"Two superheroes, created by Marvel. Iron Man's name is Tony Stark and Captain America is Steve Rogers." He started talking excitedly. "This guy used the name from one of them and the last name from the other, "S" being a link between them." He finished, still staring at the board in amazement.

Kurt and Santana stared at him like he had suddenly grown a second head, but Blaine looked at the agent with his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Impressive." He said quietly, nodding to Mike who shrugged with a small smile.

"Alright." Kurt said, recovering from the shock. "So we know that this guy was probably somehow involved. He's most likely already gone, there's no way we're going to find him." He finished bitterly.

"Not necessarily." Blaine said. When Kurt looked at him with a mixture of hope and skepticism, Blaine winked. "Don't underestimate me, gorgeous. Do you have a clean sheet of paper and a pencil?"

Kurt searched through the papers on the table and found a clear page from some notebook. He pushed it over the table to Blaine, along with a pencil.

"I happen to know a lot of Smythe's associates, but only one of them is fanatically obsessed with Marvel." He said as he sat down and started sketching. He was working in silence for a while, completely ignoring the agents in the room. Slowly, the man's face emerged from under Blaine's skilled hand. After a few more minutes, he put the pencil down. "It'll do." He muttered quietly to himself and lifted his head to look at the agents. "Who questioned all these people?" He asked.

"I did." Santana said, looking at him curiously, no longer shooting daggers at the forger.

"Was there anyone looking like this man?" Blaine asked as he showed her the drawing.

Santana's eyes widened. "Definitely. He was the one working in the lobby of this building."

Blaine smirked triumphantly. "Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to Hunter Clarington." He said as he turned the picture to Kurt and Mike. "Smythe's most trusted friend, I think they've known each other since high school."

Kurt looked silently at the sketch, trying not to let himself get too excited. But they finally had something solid, something more than assumptions and useless rumors so he couldn't help but to feel a little hopeful.

"Do you know where he lives?" He asked Blaine.

The forger shook his head. "If he knew, and I suppose he did, Sebastian never mentioned it."

Kurt nodded in acknowledgement and turned to Mike. "Mike, go and run the name through all the bases, I want this guy's address or wherever he might be. And take the sketch downstairs, and run it through the facial recognition, maybe something will come up. We have to find him."

Mike nodded without a word, still looking quite impressed as he left the room, was it by Blaine's drawing skills or by discovering the connection to his favorite comics - Kurt had no idea.

In the meanwhile, Blaine leaned back in the chair and propped his feet on the table. He ignored the glare Kurt sent in his direction and put his hands behind his head.

"I'm here for less than one hour and you already know way much more than you managed to find out during these last five years." He said in a bored tone. "Seriously, what do they teach you in Quantico?" He asked, eyeing the agents scornfully.

"Well, we caught you, didn't we?" Kurt asked snidely.

Blaine snorted. "Yeah, only thanks to Smythe. If he hadn't tipped you off, you'd have never found me."

"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night." Kurt said, sounding way more confident than he actually felt. He wanted to believe that he would have found Anderson even without Smythe's help, but, to be honest, Blaine had been one of the most intelligent criminals he'd ever encountered. Things hadn't been looking well those five years ago. Kurt would never admit it to Blaine, but he was right – Smythe's call had been crucial for his case.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" He heard Santana ask and looked up to see her smiling at him sweetly. Too sweetly.

"Sure." He said, eyeing her warily. "Let's go to my office. You-" He turned to Blaine."-stay here."

The forger shrugged. "Yeah, because there are so many places I could go to right now."

Kurt didn't bother with answering and led Santana out of the conference room, to his office, which was right next door. He closed the door and turned to her, only to find her already sitting behind _his_ desk.

"I like him." She said with a smirk.

"He just called you a stripper." Kurt said incredulously.

"Exactly. It takes some balls to do that, he has my respect." Kurt kept staring at her. "Plus, don't even get me started on the sexual tension between you two, wanky." She added, fanning herself.

"What?!" Kurt exclaimed, petrified. "What on earth are you talking about?!"

Santana's smirk got even wider. "Oh, please. You so want to bone him."

"I hate him, Santana." Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

"I don't see how that is a problem." She shrugged. "Come on, Porcelain. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't think he's hot." She looked at him challengingly.

"He's… attractive." Kurt said unsurely, knowing he just let himself get caught in Santana's trap. Seeing her looking at him skeptically, he threw his hands in the air. "Fine, okay! I'm not blind. I might find him hot, that doesn't mean I want to sleep with him!" He lowered his voice to a frantic whisper, as if someone could hear him.

"He'd totally go for it, you know. He keeps checking your ass out all the time." Santana said, looking boringly at her nails.

Kurt shook his head incredulously, looking scandalized. "Why are we even talking about this? There's nothing between Anderson and me. And why would you even suggest something like that? You know that the intimate relationships between the CIs and their handlers are strictly forbidden. So, where are you even going with this conversation?" He said, words tumbling out of his mouth at the speed of a bullet.

"You see, he's technically not your CI. CIs don't live with their handlers, nor do they spend every minute of their day joined by the hip. This deal you have with him isn't regulated anywhere, so…"

"Enough." Kurt cut her off. "It's not going to happen, I don't even know why you…" He rubbed his temples tiredly. "Nevermind. We're done talking about it."

"Just looking out for you, Porcelain." Santana said as she got up and passed him on her way to the door. She smirked at him one last time and walked out of the room.

Kurt stared after her, unable to move for a few seconds. Even after knowing Santana for so long, she still managed to throw him for a loop every now and then. This time, she completely lost her mind though, he was pretty sure of that. So he decided to do what had worked best for him for years – ignore her.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. While Mike and Santana were working on finding Clarington, Kurt decided to collect the files and reports from all the previous cases in which Smythe was a suspect, hoping Anderson would shed some light on them. Maybe he would notice something they didn't, something that would help them learn more about Sebastian or anything about his whereabouts. Kurt had never been fond of asking for help, he'd always been fine on his own, but Blaine had the kind of knowledge and experience none of them could ever have and, as much as it pained Kurt to admit it – they needed him.

Kurt put all the files in his bag and glanced through the glass wall into the conference room where Blaine was sitting. He was drawing something, looking completely lost in it, like nothing else mattered in that moment. Kurt smiled bitterly. Oh, how he wished Blaine would behave like this when they were alone in the apartment, his life would be so much calmer and easier. But, unfortunately, the forger apparently had some kind of mission which consisted purely of making Kurt's life a living hell. The agent groaned tiredly at the thought of another snapping fight with Blaine, _hating him is so exhausting, _he thought.

Kurt walked closer and knocked loudly on the glass. Blaine's head snapped up and when he met his gaze, Kurt jerked his head in the general direction of the lower part of the office. Blaine rolled his eyes, but he got up and walked to the door, putting his leather jacket on and stuffing the folded drawing in his pocket and Kurt exited his office to meet him in the hallway.

"I have some homework for you." He said, smiling sweetly.

"Fantastic." Blaine spoke in a monotone, barely gazing at Kurt as they walked down the stairs and headed to the elevators.

They didn't talk during the ride back home, though, when Kurt thought about it, they never talked. They only ever snapped or yelled at each other. Not that he minded the silence, not at all. When they entered the apartment, Blaine almost instantly moved in the direction of his room, only slowing down to pet Satine on his way.

"Hey." Kurt said, effectively stopping the forger. He pulled the documents from his bag and handed them to Blaine. "Those are the files about all the crimes we think Smythe committed. If you could…"

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Blaine said offhandedly, taking the files. "What would you do without me, pretty boy?" He added and winked before disappearing into his room.

Kurt shook his head and walked to his own bedroom to get changed. He didn't feel like cooking anything, so he decided to order the food from his favourite take-out place. As he dialed the number, he wondered briefly if Anderson had anything against Thai food, but he quickly dismissed the concern, that wasn't his problem at all. After placing his order (he made it big enough for two, he might hate the guy, but he wasn't a _total_ asshole) he plopped on the couch, deciding to kill time and distract himself from hunger by watching TV. Just as he was about to turn it on, he heard the music, the same melody that Blaine played in the morning. Only this time, after few chords, he also heard a voice – Blaine was singing.

_Vivo per lei da quando sai_

_La prima volta l'ho incontrata,_

_Non mi ricordo come ma_

_Mi è entrata dentro e c'è restata_

His voice was growing stronger with each verse, sounding raw and passionate. Kurt sat there mesmerized, with his mouth wide open and couldn't believe his ears, because that was truly one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard. He already knew Blaine was talented, judging by the way he played in the morning, but now, after hearing his voice, he was even more impressed and stunned. And he was singing in Italian.

_È__ una musa che ci invita_

_A sfiorarla con le dita,_

_Atraverso un pianoforte_

_La morte è lontana,_

_Io vivo per lei_

Kurt listened in awe as Blaine poured his heart into the song, even though he didn't understand what it was about. But he didn't have to understand to know that it was special to Blaine, he could hear it in the tone of his voice as he sang with so much power and devotion.

_Vivo per lei nient'altro ho_

_E quanti altri incontrerò_

_Che come me hanno scritto in viso:_

_Io vivo per lei_

Kurt closed his eyes as he listened to the beautiful song, wondering what caused that unexpected flow of emotions. He also wondered if Blaine was aware of the fact that Kurt could hear him perfectly well, or if he was so lost in the playing that it didn't matter to him. It seemed odd for him, especially because Blaine was a master in hiding his emotions, but here he was, completely unguarded. It was surprisingly a nice change. Suddenly, Kurt's brain somehow connected the dots and the name of the song came back to his memory, and he hastily typed it into his phone to remember it for later and maybe google the translation.

_Vivo per lei perché oramai_

_Io non ho altra via d'uscita,_

_Perché la musica lo sai_

_Davvero non l'ho mai tradita._

_Vivo per lei perché mi da_

_Pause e note in libertà_

_Ci fosse un'altra vita la vivo,_

_La vivo per lei_

With the last notes, the music vanished and the silence filling the apartment suddenly seemed deafening to Kurt. He didn't know what to do next, pretend he didn't hear anything if Blaine came from his room or just brush it off, he was at a loss.

He was suddenly startled by the ring of the doorbell. He walked to the door, paid for the food and got back to the kitchen, moving like he was in a trance. Listening to Blaine singing like that made him realize that there were more sides to the forger than he knew. And now he was intrigued, and all he wanted to do was solve the mystery that was Blaine Anderson.

* * *

><p>He couldn't explain why he started singing. At first he just wanted to play the familiar melody, but when it emerged from under his fingers, something in him snapped. His voice somehow found its way out and once he started, he couldn't stop. So he didn't, he kept singing his heart out, not really caring that, somewhere in the apartment, Hummel could probably hear everything. It didn't matter.<p>

_Vivo per lei la musica._

_Io vivo per lei_

_Vivo per lei è unica_

_Io vivo per lei_

_Io vivo per lei_

_Io vivo_

_Per lei_

He finished softly, singing the last verses quietly to himself. Blaine smiled. Even being out of prison didn't make him one hundred percent free, not yet, but when he was singing?

He felt more alive and free than he felt in ages. And suddenly, he felt happy.

* * *

><p><strong>The songs:<strong>

**- Vivo Per Lei (instrumental version)**

**- Vivo Per Lei (by Andrea Bocelli and Laura Pausini) - I know it's a duet, but I think Darren/Blaine would totally pull it off :)**

**The translation of the fragments mentioned in this chapter is also on my tumblr :)**

**Review? :)**

**K.**


End file.
